


The Ticking Clock

by CeresJago



Category: Beauty and the Beast (1991), Beauty and the Beast (2017), Beauty and the Beast - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angsty but it ends happy, But could be seen as pre-slash if that's your thing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Written as friends, poor cogsworth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-09-05 19:51:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20278879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CeresJago/pseuds/CeresJago
Summary: Lumière had never felt so afraid in his life, not even when the Enchantress had shown up to curse all those under this roof. The sight of his friend struggling to breathe was enough to set his heart pounding – blood thundering in his ears.“Mon ami!”He yelled anxiously, pulling Cogsworth’s hand away from the pendulum, and forcing him to drop the screwdriver. “What are you doing?”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all enjoy this story - a little more angsty than I usually write, but I promise it ends happy!

The perpetual ticking was driving him insane. No matter where he went, no matter how loud the staff was, he could always, _ always _ hear the continual ticking of the clock. The adjustment to an object body was one to be had for sure – and Cogsworth counted his lucky starts every night that he was fortunate enough to be blessed with the facsimile of hands and legs and could talk. He knew he had no right to complain, no reason despair when, compared to other poor souls, he was most fortunate. Cogsworth could not help it though. Try as he might to grin and bear it, he could never escape the persistent ticking. Besides keeping him awake all night, it fueled his already frayed anxiety as it served as a constant reminder to the continual passage of time. Worse than the ticking itself, perhaps, were the chimes. The first time it happened, he had a headache for weeks. After he had discerned what his friends had become at the hands of the Enchantress, they had all huddled together in the grand foyer of the castle – silently staring at each other and their own bodies in horror. Cogsworth, of course, knew exactly how long they sat there, tears falling silently and disbelief painting their faces as if this new reality were just a sickening nightmare. At one o’clock precisely, Cogsworth chimed – entire clock body rattling as he marked the hour. He had scared his friends, before the chimes had subsided. _ “This can’t be happening,”_ he had said in horror, but his friends only looked at him sadly. 

Time passed, and while some were able to tolerate their new bodies – Lumière chief among them, Cogsworth was not able to do so. The constant ticking, the rattling chimes that left him with headaches caused flat out desperation with each new day. As head of the household, he tried to keep it at least somewhat together in front of the other staff members, but when he was alone, he knew he was falling apart. He felt as if all reason was slowly leaving his body with each passing tick of the clock, leaving him desperate for just a moment of silence. It was this panic this desolation that drove him to irrationality. A month of ticking and chiming and he just needed it to _stop_. 

His announcements that morning were briefer than usual, his mind focused on a task he deemed much more important than ordering the airing of bedrooms for a master who had not left the West Wing at all during the past 30 days. If he received questioning looks from both Lumière and Mrs. Potts after releasing the staff to their duties without so much as a lecture, he did not notice.

As a clock, he could not sweat, but as he hopped off the table in the servant’s hall, his brass hands still felt clammy. He made his way to his butler’s pantry – a place that was once a source of comfort and solitude during the busy days of serving, but now only served as a reminder of how much had changed. He could no longer write letters, could no longer easily sit at his desk, and could no longer reach some of the topmost shelves. He heaved a despondent sigh as he shook his head to clear his thoughts. He had a mission to accomplish, and luckily, what he needed was kept on an easily accessible shelf. 

As a butler, it was no longer his job to wind the clocks of the castle – but it was something he had always cherished as it was something that brought order and required precision. He had all his left-over tools from his clock-winding days stashed in the bottom drawer of his desk. Pulling out a small satchel of tiny and delicate tools, Cogsworth retreated from his butler’s pantry. Making his way through the kitchen, he was halted by Mrs. Potts. She hopped next to him, concern written on her features as she looked him up and down.

“The morning announcements were rather short today, dear.” She said, looking at him pointedly.

Cogsworth cleared his throat and shifted his satchel so that it was somewhat more discretely hidden behind his back. “Yes, well, there wasn’t really…all that much to say.” He said, trailing off and looking down at the floor, missing the look of concern that passed across her face.

“Are you sure you’re alright dear? You look a bit peaky – why not stay here with me for a spot of tea?” Concern laced her voice, and Cogsworth knew it was not really a request she was asking of him.

Clearing his throat again, he painted a smile on his face. “That sounds lovely Mrs. Potts, but I’m afraid there are some matters of…pressing importance I should get on with.”

He kept his smile in place as she looked like she did not quite believe him, but eventually she relented. “Well, if you’re sure?” She said somewhat hesitantly.

“Quite sure,” Cogsworth nodded, seeing this as his chance to escape. “I’m sure _Lumière_ is off cavorting with the maids again.” He rolled his eyes. 

Mrs. Potts only nodded, and Cogsworth made his way out of the kitchen. His destination was a smallish reading room on the third floor of the castle. It was always his favorite spot – the morning sunlight hit it just right so that the room and the books glowed quite peacefully. It was one of the only bright spots in this hellish reality he found himself in. He climbed onto the windowsill and took a moment to appreciate the beauty of the castle grounds covered in a light dusting of snow. 

He opened his satchel and selected a rather small looking tool. Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself for what he was about to do.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heads up for this chapter. TW: for self harm. No one is actually trying to do that (which will become clear in the next chapter) but to be on the safe side if you need to skip this one.

As soon as Cogsworth’s retreating form had left the kitchen, Mrs. Potts had amassed the teacups in a search for Lumière. For all their bickering, he was the only one who could really get through to the butler. In short order, Lumière had entered the kitchen, bounding happily up to her.

“Mrs. Potts!” He exclaimed, giving her a hug. “Always a pleasure!”

“I’m afraid this is a matter of somewhat grave importance.” She said bursting the happy bubble of light that seemed to follow Lumière everywhere. His candles slowly went out, as he understood the seriousness of the situation.

“It’s Cogsworth,” She said, by means of explanation, and Lumière nodded in understanding.

“He has been acting rather more pessimistic than usual lately.”

Mrs. Potts shook her head. “I’m serious Lumière, I think there is something quite wrong with the poor dear. You’re his best friend and…and you have arms,” She said somewhat sadly. “I don’t know what exactly is the matter, besides the obvious, but today he was much more out of sorts than usual.”

Her look of pure concern and a little fear on behalf of their friend was enough to jolt Lumière into action. 

“But of course, Mrs. Potts, I will look for him. I will bring him back safe and sound.” She nodded gratefully, and Lumière set off in search of the former butler turned mantel clock. 

Cogsworth was not exactly difficult to find – knowing him as well as he did and aided by the constant ticking that accompanied his friend. It was not too long before Lumière found him in a deserted room on the third floor. Cogsworth was standing on the window ledge, some sort of small tool in his hand. Lumière watched as Cogsworth took a deep breath and opened the glass panel of his former chest. The increased ticking that signified the increased beating of Cogsworth’s heart was the only sound that could be heard in the room. A deep sense of foreboding settled in the pit of what Lumière assumed was his stomach at the sight before him. There was something with this picture that was terribly, terribly wrong. 

“Cogsworth?” Lumière breathed, almost afraid to speak too loudly for fear of startling the already clearly struggling butler.

Either ignoring him, or unable to hear him, Cogsworth did not turn from his spot on the window. With an audible gulp, Cogsworth brought the small tool – a specialized screwdriver by the looks of it, to the top of the pendulum swinging where his heart used to be. For a moment, Lumière stood transfixed – as if watching a slow-motion horror show playing out in front of him. 

Mouth agape at the strange sight before him, Lumière took a few more tentative hops forward, and then stopped transfixed. _ “Mon ami,”_ he called out gently. “What are you doing?”

Hopping closer, Cogsworth’s face was clearly reflected in the window – his eyes screwed tight in concentration. He was pale, and looking more haggard than usual, and Lumière silently berated himself for not noticing that before. Suddenly, Cogsworth twisted the screwdriver, letting out a gasp of pain. His clock body shuddered, and abruptly the ticking that had permeated the room stopped – leaving the two friends sitting in deafening silence. In the two hops it took Lumière to climb up to the window ledge, Cogsworth’s body had already begun to spasm. 

Lumière had never felt so afraid in his life, not even when the Enchantress had shown up to curse all those under this roof. The sight of his friend struggling to breathe was enough to set his heart pounding – blood thundering in his ears. _ “Mon ami!” _ He yelled anxiously, pulling Cogsworth’s hand away from the pendulum, and forcing him to drop the screwdriver. “What are you doing?”

The screwdriver fell to the ground with a clatter, and with his hand away from the pendulum, the ticking resumed, and the spasming stopped. Cogsworth moved to sit up from where he had fallen on his back, his eyes unfocused as he looked at Lumière unseeingly.

“_Mon ami?_” Lumière asked anxiously, coming to “kneel” in front of Cogsworth. “Look at me,” he said, trying to get his friend to focus. 

They sat like that for a while, Lumière tried to calm his rapidly beating heart – gripping Cogsworth’s shoulders tightly and repeating the montra _ “He’s alright! He’s alive! You made it in time!” _ Cogsworth tried to regain his composure. When he finally did speak, he uttered what Lumière was not expecting.

“I…” He said in a voice that sounded as if he were holding back tears. “I…I’m…_I’m sorry!_” he whispered, a single tear trailing down his face.


	3. Chapter 3

When he twisted the screwdriver, he had one blissful moment of silence before experiencing excruciating pain. Apparently, it was possible to have a heart attack even as a clock, but he did not even realize at that moment he had made a mistake. No, the moment he realized he had made a grave mistake was when he heard the unmistakable voice of Lumière cry out in alarm. He knew he made a mistake when Lumière ripped the screwdriver from his grasp and looked at him with such anguish and concern that Cogsworth felt overcome by his foolishness. 

Trying to find his voice, he said the only thing that sounded appropriate. “I…I’m…_I’m sorry!_” He whispered it emphatically as a single tear trailed down his cheek. 

He could not bear to look at Lumière anymore, dropping his eyes in shame, and angrily brushing the tear away from his face. He did not even know why he was crying, but he could not bear the thought of Lumière thinking him any more foolish than he already did. 

“Come now, _ Mon ami_,” Lumière whispered, drawing Cogsworth into a tight hug. 

Not usually one to appreciate such sentimental displays, Cogsworth surprised both himself and Lumière by returning the hug. They sat like that for a moment – both friends collecting themselves. Reflecting on the near tragedy that almost plagued them. Eventually, Lumière broke away, and looked at Cogsworth lifting his chin with a candled hand.

“_ Mon ami,_ were you trying to _se suicide_?” Lumière asked sadly.

“What?” Cogsworth spluttered, panic shooting through him and heat rising in his cheeks. “No! No...well…” He trailed off, but then took a deep breath and continued. “I just need it to stop.” He said plaintively.

“Being a clock?” Lumière asked.

“No…well yes, but that’s not what I’m talking about.” Cogsworth sighed and ran a tired hand across his brow. “No, it’s the ticking…the ever-present _constant_ ticking. I have not had one _moment_ of peace since this nightmare started – not one moment of silence, to say nothing of the constant chiming.” Cogsworth sighed again and looked up at Lumière.

“So you weren’t trying to…” Lumière trailed off somewhat uncertainly. 

“Absolutely not!” Cogsworth said, almost offended. “I…I just wanted some quiet. If the chimes would stop, I could almost learn to bear the constant ticking, but together…I…I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

Lumière breathed out a sigh of relief, silently counting his lucky stars. “Don’t worry _Mon ami_, we will figure something out for you.” He said, smiling and pulling Cogsworth to stand on the window ledge with him. Preparing to jump down, Lumière turned to Cogsworth again and said more seriously than Cogsworth had ever heard him, “Don’t ever do something like this again.”

Cogsworth could only nod.

“I am serious Cogsworth,” Lumière said emphatically. “We are friends, no? Talk to me – when we have two heads working on the problem, it is better than one.” He jumped down from the ledge and gave Cogsworth a winning smile. “Come on _Mon ami_ I am sure Mrs. Potts has some tea waiting for us! We will have fortification as we plan on a way to stop your chiming!”

Cogsworth jumped down and landed besides Lumière. “Lumière,” he said, placing a brass hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

Lumière merely laughed and threw an arm around Cogsworth. “But of course! After all, what are friends for?”

Together, they made their way to the kitchens, much to Mrs. Potts’ relief. Fortified with tea and comradery, they were able to figure out how to stop the chimes from happening every hour. The ticking, however, would remain as it was more a literal manifestation of Cogsworth’s heartbeat. But somehow, in the company of his friends, that did not seem to matter so much anymore.


End file.
